


Traitor, Murderer, and Beloved

by kitkatkaylie



Series: Tumblr fics [15]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Theon’s terrible life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25618201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: Theon died. His suffering did not end there though...
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Series: Tumblr fics [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774048
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Traitor, Murderer, and Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt “He waited for you, you know.” as asked for by @robbeonsa

Theon hardly felt it when the spear pierced his chest, by that time he was already fading, his body already starting to give up. 

The Godswood slowly turned grey around him, the details fading until it was as though he was viewing them through warped glass or a veil. 

“Turncloak.” A voice hissed, one Theon had thought long forgotten. 

He turned towards it, turned to meet the face of the man who had taught him history and geography, a man whose death he had caused. 

“I had no choice.” Theon knew his voice was weak, knew his attempt at defence was weak, but it was all he could think of.

“There is always a choice. You chose wrong. You murdered children, Theon Greyjoy, you betrayed your king. Your actions killed Robb Stark as surely as Roose Bolton’s knife did.”

His words pierced Theon’s heart like a knife. Maester Luwin had never been overly fond of Theon, just as Theon had never been overly fond of him, but there had still been respect between them born from hours spent in each other’s company, from advising Robb and aiding him when his parents had left. 

“No.” Theon’s knees gave out under him, his attention fully focused on the Maester, even as Arya faced their great foe alone, “No, weak Reek. Good Reek.”

“Murderer.” A high voice this time, a boy’s yet unchanged by growth, “Murderer and traitor.”

Pale eyes peered into his own, eyes set in a face that Theon had tried to forget but which had haunted his nightmares nonetheless. The miller’s sons.

“You killed us. Burnt our bodies and claimed we were the princes. You used to give us sweets and let us let your horse. You killed us.”

Theon let out a pained moan and tried to hide his face behind his fingers, his hair no longer long enough to hide behind.

“It rhymes with freak, rhymes with weak and meek and sneak. I know my name! I know my name!”

Everything faded away, Maester Luwin and the miller’s sons, and even the first rays of dawn breaking over the Godswood, all of it faded in favour of eyes like ice chips and a smile that promised nothing but pain.

“You do know your name, don’t you Reek?” Master Ramsay said in a sing song voice, “But you forgot everything else. You betrayed me Reek, betrayed the only person who could ever feel anything but disgust for you. You stole my wife from me, stole her for yourself.”

The noise Theon made no longer sounded human, it was the noise of an animal too beaten down to even try and escape its next beating. 

Master Ramsay’s smile widened, an expression which only ever meant pain, but one which Theon looked forward to all the same, one which might mean he would be allowed to sleep on the rug in front of the fire afterwards. 

“There we are Reek, doesn’t that feel so much better?” He purred down at Theon, “Back in your rightful place.”

Theon could feel how everything which made him Theon, all the likes and dislikes, the experiences which Yara had coaxed out, the care for others which Sansa had resparked, all curling up into a little ball in his mind as though knowing it would be attacked and removed. 

A hand twisted into his hair, yanking painfully at the strands, and Theon found himself absently wondering if it could turn grey once more in the afterlife, or whether he would be stuck looking as he did when he died.

A low growl sounded as his hair was yanked once more, but Theon ignored it. He was sure it was only wishful thinking. His sins were far too great to be rewarded in such a way. 

The growl sounded again, and the hand was removed from his hair with a sharp moment, pulling hairs out along with it. 

Slowly, fearfully, Theon looked up.

Bright blue eyes met his own. Eyes that he had imagined so many times glazed with death or looking down at him in anger. But these fitted none of his imaginings, they held no anger or death, only a sad sort of love.

“Theon.” Robb breathed, “Theon, you’re here.”

A tear trickled down Robb’s cheek, and to his horror Theon realised he matched him. He did not deserve Robb crying over him, did not deserve the forgiveness and love broadcasted from every part of Robb’s body.

He did not deserve it but he received it nonetheless. 

Strong arms wrapped him up in a hug, one that pulled him from the floor to lean against a broad chest. 

“Thank you,” Robb whispered, “Thank you for saving Sansa and protecting Bran. Thank you for doing what I could not.”

With arms that trembled from fear of rejection Theon reached up to return the embrace. He marvelled at the feel of Robb in his arms once more, at the sensation that he had accepted was long lost to him.

“I missed you.” Theon breathed, “Can you ever forgive me?”

Robb laughed wetly against his shoulder, “I forgave you as soon as I found that Bran and Rickon had not joined me here.”

Those words loosened something in Theon, something that had been wound tight with guilt and regret for so many years. 

They sagged together, muscles relaxing until they were on the floor once more, only this time Theon look up, up at the colours swirling in the sky and the sign that his death had not been in vain. 

Slowly Robb’s breathing began to deepen and his eyes slid closed, a sort of tenseness leaving him which had Theon startle and come to another realisation: Robb had been as afraid of seeing him as he had been if seeing Robb. 

It was his turn to wind a hand in someone’s hair, only he carded his fingers through Robb’s red curls gently, a soft repetitive movement which had Robb relax even further. 

“He waited for you, you know.” Lord Eddard said solemnly, appearing from Theon did not know where., “He waited and watched, even as we begged him to look away and rest. He watched and waited and wept for what had been done to you.”

Theon glanced at Robb again, at the face softened by rest into the youth he truly was, rather than the aged and stressed king.

“I wanted nothing more than to have died with him.” Theon confessed in a hoarse whisper, “I prayed to join him, but the gods kept me alive so I could repay at least some of my debt.” 

“Any debt you thought owed was paid a thousand times by your rescue if Sansa.” Lord Eddard said, “If anything it is we who owe you a debt. I would ask a final favour of you though, I would as you to care for Robb now in death as you wished you had in life.” 

Theon looked down at Robb once more, at the red hair and smooth cheeks and the blue eyes he knew lay behind those delicate eye lids. It would not be a chore to care for Robb. It never had been. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


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